Friday, November 12, 1999
The Story of the Red Maples
One dark day the maples along the street
shuddered and dropped everything.
Their scurfy leaves were gone by the time I got back.
They had scuttled in fright into the bushes
and lurched into niches of buildings and walls.
Soon the sidewalks will be exposed to full view,
their cracks laced with mosses escaped from the graveyard.
Still, I can find some comfort in twigs, naked
and stiff with chill, all hanging in there together.
Now they will have nothing useful to do
for a long time. But they will bear watching.
© 1999 The Carlisle Mosquito